City of Lost Souls
by ShadowhuntingMundie
Summary: Shattered. Someone, or something, is ripping the group apart, and setting them on each other.  Why? And who is behind this malicious movement? T for language and violence. Please read and review.
1. Prologue

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_***Disclaimer: This is my work, and the characters are the solely work of Cassandra Clare. All that is mine is the plot.**_

Prologue

"_Why?"_ That one word had long haunted Clary's thoughts, evading answer, an endless cycle, never stopping, and swirling like mud in water. She remembered her desperation as he left, as she fought the panic that overwhelmed her at the thought of being alone again. She remembered finding out they were siblings. This was a hundred, no, a thousand, no, a _million_ times worse. Because this time… they had a choice. What they had… it wasn't taken away by some hateful, malicious, father. No, this time…he threw it away. He hurled into the murky abyss of the ocean, where it was irretrievable.

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"Clary, I'm leaving," Jace had deadpanned with such finality, that Clary didn't even look up from her copy of _Fullmetal Alchemist_, too absorbed in thoughts of Max to register the words. Then, the phrase hit her with such force she thought she would double over and choke.

"What?" she forced out. It couldn't be. After everything they had suffered through, Jace wouldn't just ___leave._

"I said: I'm leaving. Do you need me to spell it out for you?" he sneered down at her, without a trace of remorse in the bottomless gold eyes.

"Why?" Clary asked, tears streaming down her face, lips quivering. She stiffened her resolve, repeating_, Shadowhunters don't cry. They do not show weakness, _over and over again like a litany, the same way Jace had whispered her name in Renwick.

"Still a mundie, I see. When will you ever learn?" With that, Jace turned gracefully on his heel and walked out the door.

Clary dropped _Fullmetal Alchemist_ on the coffee table by her couch on the foyer. Briskly, she rose and walked over to her messenger bag, which was hanging on a hook by the door. She rummaged through her bag until she found her cell phone. Clary flipped it open and scrolled down the contacts until she found the person she would normally never call unless she wanted death by shopping.

"Yes?" Isabelle's melodic voice came through the speaker, sounding a slightly tinny due to the bad reception.

"Izzy." Her voice was flat, emotionless. Clary was shocked at her own impassivity. Her hands were steady and her palms were dry. She was normally the most emotional of the Shadowhunters that lived in the Institute. _Her greatest weakness,_ Jace had once said during a training day. _Weakness and emotional equals useless, _Clary thought bitterly. "He's gone. Jace. He's the one who led the demons to us. He's the reason Alec is dead."

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**_Short, I know. But this is the prologue; they're typically shorter than the average chapter. Please review, this is my first fanfic and I would love constructive criticism so I can improve._**


	2. Chapter I

_***Disclaimer: Characters and setting belong to Cassandra Clare.**_

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_Chapter 1_

Clary's breath whistled out of her loudly as her back slammed into the wall yet again. She hissed. Isabelle and she were training in the Institute's training room, located in the attic. Izzy had thrown her into the wall, the mat, and once, even the ceiling. Never before had _any _of the Shadowhunters been that brutal to her. Normally they trained hard… but this was just too much.

"By the Angel, what is wrong with you?" Clary demanded angrily. She knew it was a hard time for Izzy, with her brothers Max and Alec being dead, and her adoptive brother being the murderer of the latter and she really shouldn't spite Isabelle, but Clary couldn't help it. Every night, she almost cried herself to sleep, but stopped herself, remembering that Jace hadn't cried since he was seven, after his falcon died. He had left her, but nonetheless, Clary still yearned for him. She didn't believe that she would ever be as cold and unfeeling as he, because her feelings for him would probably never be diminished. She was tired, emotionally and mentally drained, and now, her body was being used as Isabelle's personal punching bag.

"What's wrong with _me_?" the other girl exclaimed, indignant. "What's wrong is that I used to have three brothers and now I'm an only child. Is that good enough?"

"Jace is still your brother."

"He's as good as, if not worse, than dead."

"Look, I let you take out your frustrations on me," Clary said. "Did it ever occur to you that this isn't easy for me either?" Tears welled in her eyes again. _Damn emotions,_ she mused. Clary had thought that she had already cried herself dry, but no, the tears were unrelentless. Her mom and Luke were in Idris, as were Izzy's parents.

"Clary, this is your fault! It's your fault Jace killed Alec and then left! It's your fault Dad got hurt on that ship in August! If it wasn't for you, Max wouldn't have died because Jonathon was after _you_! If you hadn't entered our lives, _none _of this would've happened!" By the end of Izzy's little rant, she too, was almost in tears.

Clary stared, her mouth gaping like a fish's. "_My _fault! Don't blame me for Jonathon; he was an evil bastard child that was on a mission from my power-hungry father! As for Max, _you_ were the one in the house when he died! You were supposed to protect your little brother! Don't blame me for all of this! I found out I was one of the Nephilim three months ago!"

Isabelle's face paled until she didn't look white, she looked grey. Clary looked down, abashed. Just then, Izzy lunged at her, seraph blade outstreched. Clary whirled in a back roundhouse, her leg extending and kicking the seraph blade. She caught it neatly, by the hilt. By then, Isabelle had grabbed her _guisarme _and attacked. Blades clanged, in a series of parries and reposts. _Coupé, attack. Sabre parry three, repost. Foil parry four, repost. Step lunge, foil parry five, beat attack. Beat two attack, sabre parry four, attack, feint, lunge. Sabre parry five, double beat attack, roundhouse kick. _Isabelle feinted left with her weapon, then her fist swung out, knuckles connecting hard with Clary's stomach_._

"_Never_ say that again. Do you hear me?" When Clary didn't respond, the dark-haired girl grabbed a fistful of the fire-coloured hair, yanking, so Clary had to look her in the face. "_Do you hear me?" _

Clary spat in Izzy's face, then dove under her guard, grabbing her arm, and twisting it until the blade fell. Izzy landed a hard backhand to her face, before spinning around to attempt a uppercut. Instead, she kneed Izzy in the stomach, sending her flying into the middle of the room. Placing a knee on her chest, the two girls stared each other down, until Clary finally broke the silence. "I'm not some stupid mundie you can bully, Izzy. Not anymore." But Izzy didn't give in that easily. Kicking her legs up, and falling into a back roll, she stood, aiming a side kick to Clary's ribs. Ducking, she dodged it, before returning the blow with a high-lifting kick. Izzy caught her leg, and threw it higher into the air. Executing a back tuck, Clary landed in a shallow crouch. Deepening her crouch to a squat, she turned and once again, whipped out her left leg, catching the back of Izzy's knees. _Just the way Jace had shown her_, she reminisced. Izzy whispered something under her breath, but Clary ignored it.

Standing, Clary walked out without looking back, calling out "I won't be in touch." She awaited the arrival of the elevator, leaving Isabelle dazed. On the floor in the elevator, she gently traced _iratzes _over her wounds, and thinking about her sixteenth birthday. The elevator clanged, bringing her out of her memories of Jace. She stepped into the foyer, grabbed her messenger bag and donned her coat, before stepping out into the cold November weather of New York, her breath coming out in a white cloud. Flipping open her cell, she texted Simon, _I need to talk to you. _Though she showed no signs of it, Isabelle's parting words chilled her to the bone, leaving cold fingers trailing down her spine.

_Like father, like daughter, Clarissa._

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**_Please review. Next chapter will be from Jace's point of view. The attacks, strategies, parry positions, kicks are all legitimately from foil, sabre, or taekwondo. Yes, I have experience with all._**


	3. Chapter II

**_*Disclaimer: Characters belng to Cassandra Clare. Newsflash: I'm not her. Also, I got the thunderstorm idea from Robin Wasserman's Skinned._**

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_Chapter 2_

The sound of a piano filled the room. Jace tried to immerse himself in the music but he couldn't. This place just brought up too much speculation. He was in the Morgenstern Manor, located in the countryside of Idris. While he had been brought up in the Wayland Manor, he had a replica, a shadow, a doppelganger of himself living in this very house. The thought sent his mind down a neverending spiral of who he was. Jonathon truly believed himself to be working towards the greater good, yet he had been killed. Jace himself, had been the killer. Did that make him any better of a person? Killing a demon was one thing, but killing a human, even one with demon blood was still a sin, wasn't it? _Thou shalt not kill_, was written in the Bible. But he _had_ killed. Taking up arms against a felow Nephilim was worse than anything else. Did that mean he should be punished? And worse yet, he had killed his own _parabatai_. Again, it was the same argument Valentine had used, _the greater good_. _Valentine. _The name still sent shudders through his body. And _Clary. _Hurting her hurt himself the most. _But it was necessary_, Jace reminded himself.

Suddenly, a loud crash caught his attention. It was accompanied by a noise that sounded like Church when he had accidentally been thrown out of the training room into the storm outside. Whirling around, Jace had grabbed and named his seraph blades, _Nakir_ and_ Gabriel_, before the heavy, maghony book shelf hit the floor. It was connected to the rest of the shelves by a rope of some sort that Jace could not see. Slamming into the floor like dominoes, Jace couldn't help but be reminded of the time Clary and he had went to Wayland Manor. At the base of the wall, there was a hole, just enough room to fit a large man like Valentine through. Jace gazed at it warily, thinking abouth what he and Clary had found last time there was an opening in a wall. _Enough with the sentimentality_, he snarled at himself silently. With that thought, he dropped through the hole.

The darkness and fall felt like it would never end. Finally, Jace hit the bottom of the cellar. Raising his witchlight, he looked around and found himself in an labyrinth of tunnels. The darkness was overwhelming. Never having been afraid of the dark, he found his stifling fear eerie. The last time he had experienced this sensation was on Valentine's ship, on the East River. That was because of Agramon. Arbitrarily, he chose a tunnel and started a trek that only God knew how long would last.

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Eventually, after what felt like hours, Jace saw a speck of light in the distance. Swallowing against his parched throat, he moved his aching feet forwards. Step by step, he neared the light that was steadily growing larger. Finally, Jace emerged from the tunnel. It was night, the moon high in the sky. He had left when it was only beginning to set, around five o' clock. Why was the Morgenstern manor connected to here? Did the other tunnels lead to other manor houses? Were all of the properties connected, was it something Valentine had done, or was it the Circle members? Observing his surroundings, he saw a stele and a note. A strange sense of foreboding washed over him, as quickly as the tide of a tsunami would. Picking it up and turning it over in his hands, Jace felt that ghostly imprint of the owner. It was his own. The note was his, too. _Despite everything, I can't bear the thought of this ring being lost forever, any more than I can bear the thought of leaving you forever. And though I can't choose about the one, at least I can choose about the other. _It was his note to Clary. How had it gotten here?

Jace sat down in the rubble of the house he had been raised in, where he had seen his "father's" death, where he had received his first mark. He stared up at the stars, marking their positions. He wandered around, finding his first seraph blade, his first stele, and his first _chakhram._ Finally, he found the skull of a falcon. Kneeling down, he gingerly picked it up. His mouth twisted as he fought to hold back the tears that hadn't escaped in ten years. Meandering some more, to not think about the conclusion he had already reached, Jace found a thick manuscript. It was lettered with tidy writing and drawn with immaculate and meticulous precision. Flipping through it, he saw names; Jocelyn Morgenstern, Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern, Celine Herondale, Valentine Morgenstern. The notes beneath each one were incredibly detailed, to the perfection of a scientist. Some of the Downworlder pages included grotesque drawings, of werewolves writhing, vampires with their skin peeled off, fey with iron burns everywhere. He almost gagged at the detail, but Jace knew that there was no other choice. Forcing thoughts of how he had to go see Clary from his mind and his second thoughts about betraying his family, he was suprised at how quickly they left, almost of their own volition. He settled down, picking up a falcon feather as a bookmark, and read the notes, not stopping until the sun rose again. Truth be told, he had finished a while ago, contemplating whether or not he should read the next chapter, entitled Jonathon Herondale.

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**_Good? Bad? Horrid? Pleas review, I don't care if they say this story is terrible, as long as it says why. I'm not going to update until Christmas as a present to anyone who wanted this story continued and reviewed unless I get a total of ten reviews. So, that's six about this chapter._**


	4. Chapter III

**_Disclaimer: I'm not Cassandra Clare. _**

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The warmth of Taki's was incredibly welcome. Clary didn't have to look in a mirror to know that her hair was frizzy, and her face was pink, clashing horribly with her red hair. _At least my coat and eyes give me a Christmas theme_, she thought sarcastically. She blinked several times, moistening her eyes again, due to the cold sting from the ridiculously frigid air. Kaelie, who had warmed up to her, gestured for her to sit wherever she wanted with a dismissive wave of her hand, manicured nails flashing under the lights.

Clary plunked down in a booth by the window, staring outside, and waiting for Simon's arrival. She sighed. _Vampire speed or not, Simon would always be tardy._ Lacing her fingers behind her head, Clary stretched, and watched the mundanes passing by, oblivious to the jail-like building with a collapsed soufflé roof. She lost herself, imagining the drawings she could do just by watching the passerby's.

"Zoning out, again?" Simon's voice startled her out of her trance. Jumping a few inches into the air, she whirled around to glare at him.

"Don't blame me for almost dying of boredom. What were you doing? Fixing your hair into the ridiculous Bieber style that those idiotic mundies are fawning over?" Clary retorted. "Which part of ʿMeet me at Taki's at noonʾ did you not understand?"

"I got all of it. I just chose to ignore the second half. And just for the record, my hair totally beats that douche's." Simon grinned smugly. "Besides, I'm not that late," her best friend remarked. Clary's only response was to look pointedly at the wall clock by Kaelie's blonde head. The clock read one o' clock.

"Not that late, my ass. Personally, I consider an hour to be rather late," Clary snorted. She signaled Kaelie to come take their orders. Her wings fluttering, their waitress drifted over; the eyebrows above her unnervingly colored eyes raised in silent question. "The usual. But with an extra large coffee." She glanced over at Simon.

"Cow blood."

Kaelie nodded; her pink stilettos clicking against the floor as she left. Clary peered at Simon, trying to determine whether the Mark of Cain had any effects on him, thus far. "Ugh. Stop. I'm not a science experiment. I realize you loved biology, back at Xavier's, but as far as I know, Nephilim don't dissect their demons after they capture them. Unless I'm wrong? Not that I ever am-"

Clary choked back a laugh that threatened to escape. She tried to imagine Isabelle in a white lab coat with dorky glasses much like Simon's before he got turned into a vampire, carefully cutting an incision down the abdomen of a Ravener. Trying to indulge in that small, but funny fantasy, before she had to return to reality. She sighed and cut off Simon's voice that was quickly becoming annoying as he drifted farther and farther into the land of droning-like-the-chem-teacher. "Can you believe that just a few months back, we had absolutely no knowledge of the Shadow World? And yet, here we are, ordering usuals from Taki's as if we've been here all along."

Her best friend was silent for an indeterminably long time. "Do you miss it?" Simon ruminated quietly.

Clary considered this question. She fiddled with the gold button on the left cuff of her green velvet coat, the gift she had gotten from Luke before she had left for Idris. "Yes and no. I miss the simplicity sometimes. I miss the nonchalance; the fact that we didn't have to worry about never seeing a friend again, as soon as they head out. But, this is who I am. I fit so much better in this life, than the previous."

Simon examined her, peering into her eyes as if she was still the mundie who wore her heart on her sleeve. As if she was never a Shadowhunter. He opened his mouth to say something, but Kaelie had come back with their orders. The two best friends nodded their thanks, before digging in, or in Simon's case, drinking up. Clary examined her grilled chicken Caesar salad. It looked tantalizing, but she already knew that. She had ordered it every lunch Alec was at Magnus's, Izzy was cooking, and Jace took her here. "How are you? What with the Mark of Cain and all," Clary returned the question.

"I'm fine. I haven't really been wandering, too much. There's been a bit more distance between the rest of the New York vampire clan and I, but we were never quite best buddies in first place." Simon's voice contained a miniscule trace of resentment that if Clary hadn't known him since they were six, she would've never heard it. His eyes stared off into the distance, almost, but not quite, focused on his empty plate. Sipping from his cup of blood, he glanced back at her. "What did you want to talk to me about?" Simon queried, referring to her text by gesturing towards his phone.

"Jace. Simon..." Clary bit her lip, her eyebrows contracting, unsure of how to continue. She looked down, twisting the silver ring with a _semper _rune where the stone would typically be. Jace had given it to her after they returned from Idris.

_"Promise you won't leave?" Clary had asked him, her eyes beseeching with his own. They had been through too much for her to bear the thought of being without him._

_"Always," he had answered simply, before slipping the ring onto her finger and pulling her into his arms. _With great effort, she pulled herself out of her thoughts_. _The death of Alec had affected Isabelle greatly, which in turn hurt Simon more than she could've imagined. It was almost worst than when he first saw Jace and her outside her bedroom.

"Go on," Simon commanded her.

Clary exhaled, her breath coming out in a gusty sigh. Inhaling deeply, she launched into the whole story. How Jace had just left, how he hadn't even cared about all the crap they had been through. "And then I realized, that-"

"He killed Alec and led the demons to the Institute." Simon shut her up, finishing her sentence for her. "Of course, it all makes sensnow, doesn't it? Why he was so withdrawn, why everytime someone brought up Alec, he seemed so guilty. I thought he was just upset about how he treated his _parabatai_," Simon ranted. Clary knew better than to interrupt him when he went off like this.

"Simon, I have to see him. I just need to see him once. Besides, we could then find out what he's up to, right? Find out his motives?" Clary almost begged him. Her shoulders shook with barely contained sobs; her vision blurring due to the tears building up in her eyes. Blood pounded in her ears, and she remembered the last time she was here, sitting in that very seat, leaning across the table the way she was now. The only difference was that she had been pleading to Jace, not Simon.

"Can you handle it? Seeing him again?" Simon was worried for her. He knew her too well to think that she wouldn't listen, if he said no. So, instead he simply confirmed that Clary was ready for this next step.

"Yes. I'm sure. I tracked him earlier." She had tracked him just before she left for Taki's, using the same toy soldier that Isabelle had once used to search for the same person. Clary had stopped on the second floor, the living wing of the huge church. Normally, she would be more inconspicuous, but she had had a feeling that Izzy would've been too preoccupied to notice Clary in her messy black-and-gold painted room, a floor beneath her. Clary hadn't known the tracking rune, but then again, she hadn't known the _Open _rune either, when she was in the Silent City, rescuing Jace from the cells. Closing her eyes, she saw rolling hills, and ruins.

"So, you know where he is?"

Clary nodded. She scoured her bag for her stele, paper, and pen. The Clave had a bit more leniency with her now, due to the Alliance rune, which meant she could book a last minute portal trip to Idris. The fire-message was quickly devoured by the rune. Glancing at the clock once again, Clary stood, leaving a bit of money on the table. "I'm leaving now, I'll see you when we get out of this mess."

Simon's only response was to wave somberly. Clary walked about five paces, before stopping and looking over her shoulder. Guilt churned in her stomach. "Oh, I almost forgot: tell Izzy that I wish her the best." Continuing on her way out, Clary stopped before she left the restaurant. Shielding herself from mundanes with a glamour, she stepped out the door, and immediately turned into an alley. _Portal_, she thought. The lines flowed from her stele, snaking around the dumpster. Clary never failed to be awestruck by the beauty of a rune being created. Committing the scenery of New York to her memory one last time, knowing it could be the last time Clary ever saw it, she stepped through the portal. Almost instantly, she was in the Gard. Stepping out onto the cobblestone path, she turned to thank the Shadowhunter for not rejecting the arrival due to short notice.

Briskly, she set off, passing Angel Square, and Amatis's house, where she opened her second portal that day. Not wanting to arrive exactly at the manor house, she settled for a half hour walk to Wayland Manor. Trekking through the still lush, green grass was incredibly peaceful. It almost let Clary forget the situation she was in. Almost, but not quite. All too soon, but at the same time not fast enough, she saw the cavity that the falling manor had created in the valley. Another thousand feet, and she could make out a blond head. _Jace_. She wanted to run into his arms, at the same time she wanted to draw her dagger and murder him. Clary did none of the above. She just stood, silent as snow falling to the ground, watching the boy she had brought back from the dead; the one she had thought was her brother; the one who had given her the witchlight stone buried in her coat pocket.

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Jace breathed in, and out. And in, and out. He still hadn't read the chapter entitled with his name. He slammed it shut, feeling weak, remembering how Clary would never have hesitated. She would have faced the truth, no matter how hard it be. _He had been right all along. Love made him weak. _Sensing a presence behind him, he turned, almost lazily, just as the first dagger flew, embedding itself two inches from the notes, and two inches from his head. _Don't make me do this, Clarissa_, he snarled silently. He didn't _want _to fight her. _But then again, when had it ever mattered what he wanted?_ he thought bitterly, as he leapt up and yanked the dagger from the ground. "Clary," he called. She froze. He expected her lips to tremble, but they didn't. _She really had changed now_. The thought filled him with an unspeakable sadness. His Clary was gone, and instead, a trained Shadowhunter had replaced her. Her eyes were cold, shutting out any emotions she felt from him. He tried to convey his sadness to her without speaking, and when he blinked, he kept his eyes shut, as if when he opened them the Clary he had -and still did, he realized- loved would be back. However, he felt a well-placed kick to his shins. He was about to fight back, but he realized _I deserve this. _Slamming her elbow into his ribs, he couldn't take it anymore, and survival instinct took over, as it had since he was five. He caught her arms and she shook them free. She pounded her small fists against his chest, and he lifted her up, ignoring her protests and struggles. Eventually, she subsided, and crumpled against him, her entire body wracking with pent-up tears.

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**_In case any of you were wondering, _semper _means "always" in Latin. Please review. I'm working on making my chapters longer. It's hard, but I'm getting there! Can we try for five reviews until my next chapter? Or... you could wait until Christmas. Pick your poison._**


	5. Chapter IV

**_Disclaimer: *checks mirror* I'm a brunette with almond shaped eyes. Not a redhead. What does that mean? I'm not Cassie Clare. Also, thank you to Lemony Snicket for the tunnel idea. _**

**_I know I said I'd update before Christmas (which I did) and I'm unfashionably late, but I've decided to make my chapters longer with (hopefully) better writing technique. And I've been busy... so these aren't going to be that often._**

**_Thanks for all the reviews! When I ask for five, I get them in the first two days or so. When I ask for five, I get nine. What does that mean? It means you're all impeccably awesome. And thanks to MaxWaylandGrey, you've reviewed every single one of my chapters, and been extremely encouraging. _**

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Chapter IV

Clary drew a ragged breath. She was curled into a fetal position, Jace's arms around her. As much as she didn't want to, she felt safe in his arms. It reminded her of the time they had together, before he left, when they were no longer siblings. She buried her face into his shirt, breathing in the smell that she had tried so hard to forget: limes, soap, and blood. She let out her breath, slowly, trying to force herself back into the emotionless Shadowhunter that she had trained to be. It didn't work. It came out in a half-strangled, tortured cry that made Jace's arms tighten around her. She felt herself being lowered, and wrapped her arms around Jace's neck, clinging, so she wouldn't be alone again. Rationally, she knew that she was hanging on to somebody that had killed her brother, her best friend's fellow archer, and her only girl friend's brother. Clary knew this, but didn't care. Jace was sitting on the ground, now, still holding Clary, as if they had never been apart. As if it was the middle of the night after Clary awoke, gasping, from a nightmare that Jace really had died.

Eventually, Clary calmed down. Remembering who she was, her place, and Jace's place, she pulled away. She saw the defeat and resignation in Jace's eyes. He knew the questions that would be asked, and he knew he owed her enough to have to answer the queries. Clary didn't want to ask. She didn't want to know why Jace had left, and why he had shattered his entire family in the process. Nonetheless, Clary knew what she had to do. "Why?" the single-word question was exhaled on the lightest breath of air. Once it was out though, she couldn't stop herself. "Why did you leave? Why did you kill Alec? Why did you lead the demons to ambush us at the Institute? Because of your stupid actions, Izzy uses me as her punching bag and Magnus is never around anymore." Her lip quivered. Quieter than all the previous questions that had flowed out in an angry, desperate torrent like a river that had been dammed that was suddenly allowed to flow freely, Clary asked her last one. "Why don't you love me anymore?" she whispered, so quietly, she could barely hear herself. She watched his throat shift as he swallowed. Watched him close his eyes and rub his temples as if he had a pounding migraine.

Finally, he spoke. "I left because Alec died."

"He didn't die! You killed him!" she returned hotly.

"Let me finish," he replied with a bitter half-smile. "I led the demons to the Institute because I received an anonymous fire-message. It gave me a choice that truly left me no volition to choose. I had to bring the demons to the Institute, or bring them to Idris. If I didn't, they would take you and perform experiments on you. No sooner had I finished reading the threat, a vial of demon blood was dropped through the window. I peered outside; searching for what had given me the offending thing. There was nothing. I almost told myself that I imagined the whole thing, before seeing the note and blood on my bed. I reminded myself that we could hold them off at the Institute; we had weapons, and enough Shadowhunters. It would be less devastating if we all died, than if all those Idrisians died. I didn't expect my _parabatai _to die.I blamed myself for his death, to me, it was as bad as murdering him. Hearing that, do you still think I don't love you?"

Clary bit her lip, fingers playing with the ring. She had to admit, the words made sense. "Who sent you the note, then?"

"I don't _know_." Jace was angry and ashamed. His eyes burned with a fire of rage. "If I knew, why do you think I'm still here, and not avenging my brother's death?" he challenged; his muscles were taut and his jaw locked.

Her eyebrows drew together, as she stared off into the distance, thinking about what Jace had said. _They would take you and perform experiments on you_. "What experiments?"

"Oh, not much. Mainly extracting your blood, and injecting it into Downworlders. Probably, vice versa, too," Jace answered nonchalantly, even though he knew the matter was excruciatingly grave. "Sort of like what Valentine did to your brother and I."

Clary winced at the hatred and raw pain in Jace's voice. She looked down, seeing his torn and grass-stained jeans, unable to meet his eyes. They were so brutally cold and empty; yet they screamed revenge. Abruptly, she changed the subject. "Did you come to Idris just to see these ruins? Because that book wasn't here when we destroyed this place." She eyed him warily, hoping that he wouldn't lie, understanding that she didn't really know him anymore. There was nothing that was desired more than mending their broken relationship, than finding the truth. Clary _needed _to understand, to make sense of the confusing maze her life had abruptly become. As much as she and Izzy weren't getting along, she knew that much was owed. Nevertheless, she wasn't ready to face the hardest question: who would kill Alec? And _why_? So, she shoved it out of her mind, and waited for the answer to an easier question.

"No," he finally answered, "I came to see what I could find in the Morgenstern manor. I found this connecting tunnel that led to here after a grueling walk. I finally reached the end of the tunnel and saw a fluttering piece of paper. It was my note to you before I left to fight your brother. I'd no idea how it had gotten here. I thought-"

Clary cut him off. "That doesn't make sense. I burned it. It hurt too much."

Jace pondered this. Slowly, as if he was still piecing together a conclusion, he ventured, "So… that means that someone who had enough power did this. I mean, you can't create something out of nothing. Even mundanes know that."

"Yes, except while we call it simple logic, they call it The Law of Conservation of Mass. Which means the question is: did someone cast a glamour over yours, or did someone cast a glamour over mine?" Clary knew she could not evade the nagging question anymore. "Chances are that the person who managed what they did with the notes, the same individual might've sent you the warning."

"What makes you say that?"

"Think about it. You come to Idris, walk through a passageway, and find a note that has previously been destroyed. Back at the Institute, you find a note that appears out of nowhere, and threatens me being subject to experiments, or working in cahoots with demons. This doesn't strike you as fishy?"

"No. I see no semblance to fish whatsoever. I have never enjoyed the taste of fish; there is a reason I enjoy mu shu pork, not steamed fish."

Clary just glared and raised both eyebrows.

Jace raised one.

They kept staring each other down.

He broke down first and the corner of his lip quirked into an uneven smile. "However, the suspiciousness of this case is undeniable."

"Shadowhunter or Downworlder?" Clary murmured with a yawn. She was sleep deprived, and the stress of the past day's events had worn her down.

"Either. Both. Neither. A mundie," Jace answered cryptically, his eyes distrustful. "But, still, you should sleep. You look horrible," he added on, his voice losing the hard edge, and being replaced only with care.

Clary shook her head vigorously, clearing her mind of the fog that threatened to resettle if she didn't keep thinking with enough power to run a city. "No. I owe Izzy this much." The statement was flat; unfeeling; _true_. "How could a _mundane_ do this?"

"Mortmain managed, didn't he? And he didn't have a drop of magical blood. It could be a Shadowhunter who worships Valentine. Though, I don't know why anyone would. Or someone who really doesn't like this Alliance between the Downworlders and us. Which means we're back to square one…" Clary tuned him out. Brainstorming had never been his strong suit. _Who would want to kill Alec? The demons had all swarmed towards him, which meant he was their target._

"Well, think about it. He was what kept Magnus with us, and we all know that he was undoubtedly the most powerful of our group. They went all over the world together, South Carolina; India; Europe. He was my _parabatai_, which is why Izzy and I got along at all. I mean sure, we're siblings and we care for each other, but she would shove me in front of a demon if that's what it took to protect Alec. He and Simon were friends, though I honestly don't know how that happened, other than that their friendship only became evident when we were in Alicante."

Startled, Clary gazed at him with a confused expression. She hadn't realized that the thought was spoken aloud.

"What I mean to say, is that _Alec was who held us all together_, even though he was incredibly introverted, almost as bad as some depressed recluse. Whoever sent me this threat evidently knew what would happen. He-"

"Or she."

"Or she," Jace amended, "knew that I would be seen as Alec's murderer, which in every way I am; that Izzy would take out her frustrations and anger on you; that you would leave her. What I don't think they foresaw, was that you would find me and hear me out. Speaking of everyone else back at home, how are they? Still thinking of me as a traitorous person who deserves to be hung out to dry?" The last part came out bitter as unsweetened black tea.

"Simon's still living in Virginia; Mom and Luke are fine. They're currently promoting the Alliance, so they're island-hopping in South America when I last heard from them. Who do you _think_ sent you the warning?"

"I've thought about it several times. The more I reflect, the less likely _anyone_ did it. I suppose my best guess would be Camille, if she wants Magnus for herself. But on the other hand, why threaten you?"

"Tessa? Though, again, she'd have no motive…"

"She might, actually. What if she hates this alliance so much because of how she was treated in her time, so she thinks it's unfair that there's this truce now?"

Tessa had told them about how Jace's ancestor, William Herondale had treated her like the dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

"That's illogical. Wouldn't she want this to stop the persecution against not only herself, but _all_ Downworlders? Especially since she's immortal…" Clary trailed off.

"So, she'd live the rest of her life in better conditions? I considered that too, but what if she's resentful and bitter towards the Clave?"

"So? This would finally be justice, then, right? And as for Camille… while she might want Magnus back, killing Alec would just make Magnus bitterer."

"Not is he didn't know it was her," Jace pointed out unhelpfully.

"As you said, the only motive to kill Alec would be to tear us all apart. We're weaker that way, and that would provide a perfect opportunity to attack."

"Why would anybody hate us that much? In much of the Shadow World, you're a hero. I mean, you're the one who the Clave asked to create the new symbol. Not to mention the whole Alliance rune and killing Valentine part…"

"He was my father, remember? If someone had a twisted sense of justice; patricide is a sin; and voila! A motive."

"Yes, but no one _knew_ that you killed your father. And besides, you didn't. Raziel did when your father summoned him because he was a zealous bigot. "

Clary sighed. This whole conspiracy thing was exhausting. They were going in circles, like a dog idiotically chasing its own tail. Louder than last time, a yawn escaped her. Jace looked at her worriedly.

"We'll figure this out tomorrow. Just go to sleep, I'll wake you if anything earth-shattering happens." He leaned down and brushed her lips once, a reminiscence of before. Clary closed her eyes sadly, tears stinging her retinas. Crossing over into the realm of sleepless dreams, she halted. There was a crackling sound by her right ear. With the last of her strength, she yanked herself back, just to see a fire-message descend towards her. Reaching out with her right hand, the ring on her finger glimmered.

"I'm surprised you kept it," Jace remarked offhandedly as her hand closed around the crumpled paper.

Smoothing it out, she responded, "It was a memory that I treasured." Clary couldn't believe that the hope of being with Jace again, which she had nurtured at the base of her heart and back of her brain for so long, might actually have a hope of existing. The idea mad her happy and she actually cracked a smile. It graced face but slipped like water from a waxed surface as soon as the contents of the note registered in her sleep-deprived mind. Jace read over her shoulder and leapt up, checking his belt for weapons. There, on the crumpled and tear-stained surface was Izzy's handwriting. It looked as though she had been in a hurry, the writing slanted and shaky. _Why did crap always come in notes?_

_Clary,_

_I'm sorry for being such a bitch. I need your help. The Institute has been compromised by demons. Simon's been taken._

_Please._

_And if I don't see you again… tell Jace that I miss him._

_

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_

**Could I get six more reviews, to make it twenty-five, please? And if anyone is on Twitter... I hope you liked my South Carolina and Virginia reference. :) If you aren't on Twitter, I recommend that you somehow find out about South Carolina because I laughed so hard that night. To those people who are on Twitter, I'm crystalc13 and I have a LiveJournal account under the same name... but I don't use it. Ever.**


	6. Chapter V

**_*Disclaimer: I'm not Cassie Clare. I'm running out of creative ways to do this. Any ideas? I managed to update in a relatively short amount of time, but I'm just saying, next time will probably be way longer. Enjoy. :)_**

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Chapter V

Leaping up, Clary Marked Jace with a rune for speed, one for agility, and one for stamina. "Dammit. How the hell did demons get into the Institute?"

"I've no idea," he responded tersely. "Give me your stele so I can mark you."

As soon as Jace finished, and her arms stung, Clary drew the Portal in the grass. "Go. I'll close this up."

He nodded, leaving without taking the record of Valentine's experiments. Putting her foot into the Portal, she paused, indecisive as to whether or not she should bring the book. Too late, it dawned on her that hesitating was unwise. The talons of a demon closed around her ankle, stabbing and tearing at her flesh. Lunging, her hand closed around the book, not a moment too soon, because another demon had joined the first in its campaign to rip her leg off.

"Get off me, you filthy beasts," she snarled, whipping her leg from side to side so that the Ravener and the Shax slammed against each other, the stinger of the former stabbing the head of the latter. Whirling, Clary hurled a seraph blade at the Ravener, the blade meeting its target dead on. The hilt stuck out of the head, squarely in-between its disturbing eyes. Satisfied that there would be a second to spare, Clary closed the Portal, while she yanked a Circassian dagger from her combat boots. Quickly, she stuffed the manifesto into her pocket.

Before she even got to survey her surroundings, demons had surrounded her from all sides. Their eyes varying from none to something like thirty. _Idiot, you're about to die. You don't have time to count demons' eyes_, she berated herself silently. The dagger flashed, and the head of a Raum fell off, rolling to her feet. She curled her lip in distaste, before kicking it towards a Drevak that was creeping up on Izzy from behind. _You know what, Simon? Maybe playing soccer with you wasn't such a bad idea after all. _Glancing her way, Isabelle nodded her thanks, before flicking her wrist so that the whip slashed out, slicing all the demons around her in half, their insides pouring out and the already vile and putrid scent worsened by umpteen times. As quickly as the demons disappeared, more took their spot, appearing from nowhere.

"Ugh! For the love of all things holy, or in your case, damned, TAKE A SHOWER!" Izzy shrieked, taunting the demons. Clary suppressed a smile, and turn back to her own problems. The demons were nearing, and she was almost backed up into a corner. _Make the best of your surroundings_, Alec had told her during training. Spinning to face the wall, Clary took a step, before planting her foot firmly on one of the countless motifs depicting Shadowhunter history that covered the entire Institute. Leaning forward and putting her weight solely on the leg braced against the wall, she rose on her supporting leg and pushed herself off the wall. Throwing back her arms and arching her back, she somersaulted through the air, aiming for top of two demons' heads.

Thinking quickly while she flew through the air, Clary grabbed one of the candles that had adorned the Institute when it was Halloween. Maryse had decided that the lit candles added a nice touch to the Institute, and they had remained lit ever since.

The force of her jump jolted through her. Her feet had landed squarely on the ugly heads of the two demons, and they turned to a pile of ashes, their skulls dented. Her boots were covered in ichor and demon gut. "Those were my favorite boots," Clary exclaimed, outraged, as she shoved the flaming candle into an approaching demon while the dagger rammed into the brains-_ if they _have_ brains-_ of the other.

When Clary finally got a chance to observe the situation, she saw Izzy fighting five demons, her whip unfurling around her, moving so quickly it was like she was encased in a golden globe of light. The tendrils of her long hair flew, making Clary wonder how Izzy could see. Her seraph blade was in the other hand, slashing at any demon that managed to bypass her whip. Each time a demon fell and turned into a pile of ashes, another would take its place. Jace was in a similar predicament, with demons that seemed incessant. Finally, she saw Simon, looking pitiful in a pool of blood, similar to that of when he first became a vampire.

Clary made her way over to her best friend, trying to dodge the pools of blood, poison, and acid. Her dagger was out in case any demons attacked her. She took down seven of them while walking a meager distance, around ten meters. Remembering that there could be infinite demons, the never ending stream suddenly made sense to her. Someone had managed to create a portal to the multiple dimensions, allowing the beasts through. Glancing down at the Daylighter, Clary presumed that from the state of his injuries that he would be okay, and since he hadn't started burning up yet, he wasn't infected with demonic toxins. "Guys! We have to get out of here!" she shouted above the din and snarls of the demons.

"No, really, Sherlock?" Somehow, Jace had managed to be sarcastic in this situation. Clary made a mental note to ask how he did it.

Beckoning, Clary drew her fourth portal of the day. It was exhausting, and its toll on her was greater than she could ever have imagined. Jace and Isabelle hurried over, heads down, boots kicking demons' faces inwards. They looked like the hounds of hell had attacked them after multiple sleepless nights. _Which was basically true_, she reminded herself.

"Don't think. I know where we're going," she instructed them. Envisioning Luke's farmhouse with the last of her strength, Clary dropped through the hole in the floor, dragging Simon's lifeless body with her.

"Sorry, Simon," Clary muttered as she dropped his unconscious form to the frozen grass and rushed to the door to draw an Open rune on the locked and bolted door. Several seconds later, everyone else landed; Jace with that ridiculous cat-like grace and Izzy heavily on her left leg.

Swiftly, Clary closed the Portal after casting a worried glance at the hole in the sky from which they had fallen. Satisfied that there wouldn't be any demons, Clary put away her weapons and drew her stele. She cast a worried look over her shoulder at Izzy, who was bleeding profusely from her right leg. As soon as she finished with the Portal, Clary ran over to support Izzy's weight on her shoulder.

"Jace, grab Simon, would you?" Even though it was phrased as a question, Clary issued it like a command. He nodded an affirmative, before picking up Simon's body like it was a ragdoll and kicking open the door. Clary and Izzy followed behind, Izzy hobbling, and Clary staggering slightly under the weight of her friend. Jace held the door for them, and once they were in, he slammed the door shut, bolted it, and turned around to see a stele flying at him.

Clary sat Izzy down in the overstuffed chair in the living room and gently unlaced her boot, examining the wound. Spinning around to ask for her stele, she noticed Simon slumped on the couch and Jace standing in the doorway, as if unsure about whether or not he was allowed to come in.

"Stele?" Clary requested. It was gently tossed to her, and her arm shot out to grab it. Hurriedly Marking Isabelle with multiple _iratzes_, she once again looked at the deep gash on the leg. The actual cut was gone, but her leg was still swollen and looked like Izzy had been playing in a field of poison ivy for a week. Steeling herself, Clary apprehensively turned towards Simon. The blood flow had lessened, though it still stained the white couch.

"Luke is going to _murder_ me when he sees his furniture," complained Clary. Izzy gave a weak snicker at this. She frowned as she slowly turned and gave Izzy her best death-glare. "If you think it's so funny, you can clean it up and explain to Luke _and my mom_, why the once white couch is now tie-dyed with blood," she challenged.

Isabelle blanched and her eyes grew round. Clary gave a satisfied smile that didn't reach her eyes because they were muddled with concern about Simon. She noticed that Jace had disappeared from the room, and heard sounds of somebody searching for something from the kitchen. "We're going to need blood; _iratzes_ are so not going to help."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," came a weak voice from behind her.

"Simon. You okay?" Her eyebrows were furrowed. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Merry Christmas," Jace said sarcastically as he set down the vial of blood. "Don't ask for any presents from me this year."

_So, that's what the loud rummaging was_, Clary realized belatedly.

Simon downed the blood in one shot and regarded Jace calmly. "I wouldn't want anything from you, anyways. I don't associate with murderers. Especially not people who murder their brothers."

Izzy opened her mouth to agree, but Clary beat her to it. "Whoa! Nobody murdered anybody. Jace didn't murder Alec. We're trying to find out who did. It's probably the same person who opened a Portal for the demons into the Institute, and there is a rock-solid alibi for Jace."

Simon and Isabelle looked at her as if she was insane. Clary registered the astonishment, anger, betrayal, disappointment, and confusion in their eyes. Normally, it would've hurt, knowing that her best friends had so little trust and faith in her, but Clary consoled herself with the fact that nobody knew the whole story. Jace looked at her simply with gratitude and appreciation in his eyes.

Clary took a deep breath and launched into a long narrative about how someone had coerced Jace to either bring the demons to the Institute or to Idris. Jace added in details about how he thought that if everyone at the Institute died, it would've been better than if all the Shadowhunters in Idris died. Together, they managed to bring Izzy and Simon up to date with their findings. Their part ended half an hour after they began.

"Your turn. How did the demon's get into the Institute? Last time, they were outside, waiting for us," Clary queried. "And did you guys want any coffee? I'm dead on my feet." As she stood and headed for the kitchen, a chorus of yeses chimed from the living room. Simon requested more blood. With the percolator on, Clary waited in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, catching snippets of friendly conversation while the familiar and comforting smell of coffee filled the air. Clary watched everyone as they sat and talked, glad that they were no longer lobbing accusations of murder at each other. She would've loved to draw the scene; it was almost like how she imagined _The Knights of the Round Table_ talking, but modernized.

Simon was sitting with his back ramrod straight, while Izzy slouched and leaned forward. Jace was sitting on the floor with one leg crossed over the other. Isabelle had accepted her brother back with open arms, but Simon was still suspicious. It was plain in his eyes that he didn't quite believe Jace. _Could he be who we're looking for?_ Clary pushed away the unwelcome thought. _Of course he wouldn't. He has no motive, and he's been my best friend for years_, she reasoned with herself. So why wouldn't the feeling of unease go away?

The coffeemaker hissed, signifying that it was ready. Grabbing chipped china mugs, Clary distributed generous amounts of coffee, before opening the fridge and taking a flask of blood. Grabbing the handles of two mugs in one hand, and the handle of the last mug and the blood in the other, she walked confidently back to everyone else. _Who knew? Shadowhunter training can help one's balance. _She remembered the devastating attempts at gymnastics that her mother had forced her to do when she was little.

Clary sat the drinks on the table in between everyone, before sitting across from Jace, snatching her coffee, and warming her hands. Izzy grabbed two sugar cubes and dumped in a copious amount of milk and Jace stuck with his black coffee.

"So… how did the infernal demons get onto hallowed ground? It's a logical impossibility. So is the fact that Simon was in the Institute and wasn't a Projection."

Izzy swiveled in her chair to look at Jace, who had asked the question. "I don't know. Technically, in order to make a holy object, or place in this situation, would be to damn it. So, it would have to be someone who had knowledge of such magic."

Clary and Jace locked eyes with each other. "The person with the notes."

Jace nodded slowly as comprehension dawned on his face. Simon and Izzy also locked eyes with each other. However, they looked utterly bewildered. Jace took the liberty to explain to them.

"When I was in Idris, I found this note-"

"That I burned," Clary completed for him.

"And the threat that I told you about? It came out of nowhere."

"Wait. But you said there was also demon blood? Wouldn't that have worked to undo the hallowing?" Simon asked from his perch on the blood-stained couch.

"No. I would have to draw a Rune for Demonic Power with it to break the holiness. The same one that Jonathon used on the wards," Jace clarified, seeing that Simon was going to ask if it was the one Clary's brother used.

"Could someone have drawn it from the outside?" Clary was unfamiliar with the way that the Clave hallowed the ground for an Institute.

"No," Izzy answered. "It's the same principle as the wards. Because a demon can't get into the Institute, there shouldn't be any way for the charm to be evoked."

"So, it's not Camille or any of the vampires. They wouldn't have been able to get in." Isabelle nodded to answer Simon's question.

"Not the fey, either. They've never been inside the Institute," Clary added.

"Not necessarily. They could've sent someone in."

"But there's always _someone_ in the Institute."

"Not when we're all at Taki's."

Clary put her head down and began just listening to the debates between everyone else. Their voices all became one, until it sounded like Izzy arguing with herself, because her voice was the highest and loudest.

"No mundanes then. They wouldn't be able to see the Institute."

"Wrong. Mortmain could."

"This is counter-productive. In that case, the vampires could've done it with the aid of some other race. They might've masterminded the whole thing. If we're just going to conspire about who did this, we may as well start pointing fingers at everyone, including each other."

Silence.

Then everyone began talking at once. Their voices grew louder and louder, a cacophony of different pitches, ranging from the tenor of Jace's voice to the soprano of Izzy's. Their individual voices could be heard now, as they were all shouting.

"GUYS! SHUT UP!" Clary exploded. Everyone looked at her with murder in their eyes, before seeing her defeated and exhausted expression and the circles beneath her eyes. Their gazes softened, and just as Clary was about to sink into the oblivion of much needed sleep, a snide voice remarked from behind her, "Falling asleep at a discussion, Clary dear?"

Everyone's heads snapped towards the source of the voice, just in time to see a tall, thin, Asian man unfold from a cloud of sparkles.

* * *

**_Three guesses as to who it is. :) Review! At least another four so I can make it thirty... but the more the merrier. Let me know in your review:_**

**_a) Who you think the antagonist is._**

**_b)Whether I should make the chapters longer, shorter, or whether this length is good._**

**_c) Any specific requests or questions you may have._**

**_d) Any constructive criticism to make this story better._**

**_Happy Holidays, everyone!_**


	7. Chapter VI

_**Hey, I'm back! I was really upset about the lack of response from last chapter... THREE reviewers. Not sure what went wrong... *sigh* Anyways, this chapter is dedicated to those three reviewers: MaxWaylandGrey, Serenity Shadowstar, and BadAssChick01. Thanks. **_

_**To those of you who are refusing to review because Alec is dead: Just because he's dead, doesn't mean he won't be in the story. Max is dead by City of Fallen Angels... but in Chapter Fourteen (at least, I think it's fourteen), Jace is apologizing to Max. It's true; look on Cassandra Clare's website for the chapter titles. Review and let me know you want the link and I'll PM it to you.**_

_**No, Jonathon is not the antagonist of this story; has this story really been that predictable?**_

_**Disclaimer: I'm not Cassandra Clare.**_

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Chapter VI

Clary gaped at Magnus, her mouth unashamedly hanging open. She had not seen the warlock since Alec's death, sure that he thought they were to blame. Glancing around quickly, everyone else was in the same state of shock. The reason for their befuddlement was not so much confusion for Magnus' presence, but more so for the lack of hostility in his voice and body language.

They exchanged gazes with each other, trying futilely to communicate silently with wide eyes. "Oh, please. I _am _some eight hundred years old. Do you _really _think I can't read your faces? You lot are more expressive than theatre troupes," Magnus berated them, a colorful cloud of sparkly smoke emanating from his cigarette.

Quickly, the Shadowhunters – plus Downworlder – dropped their eyes, averting each other's questioning looks and Magnus' amused and skeptical one, suddenly seeing some splotch on their shoes. All of them opened their mouths; however, upon seeing their companions about to speak, they shut their own mouths resolutely, nervous smiles quirking at the corners of their lips.

Magnus simply arched one of his perfectly plucked eyebrows and decided to help them out. "Let's start again, shall we? My name is Magnus the Magnificent Bane –"

"High Warlock of Brooklyn, yeah, yeah… And you'd like to ask us what was happening and whatnot, yes?" Simon finished for him.

Pretending to ponder, Magnus stroked his nonexistent goatee in deep thought. "Hmm… yes, that'd be a good place to start."

"Hold it!" Jace barked out. "We've no idea where you've been and what's happened. Why should we tell you everything?"

Clary bit her lip; her eyebrows drew together, indecision and worry clear on her face. Nevertheless, Jace had a point that couldn't be argued: How could they trust Magnus, who had left them without a word? However, she would _really_ prefer to not be on Magnus' bad side. Izzy and Simon seemed to be in the same predicament, their eyes darting from Jace to Magnus, and back again. Everyone was leaning towards the table; the tension was thick enough to be cut with the dagger in Clary's hair.

Magnus narrowed his eyes, "Might I remind you, little Shadowhunter, that you were my boyfriend's _parabatai_, and therefore should've been watching his back? Instead, you abandon your life-long brother for this girl that you thought was your sister." He gestured vaguely at Clary, his voice twisted with scorn since _Shadowhunter._

Jace's eyes simmered, almost like boiling water before it bubbled over. "Yeah? Well, let me remind _you _–"

Clary cut him off here. "STOP! This won't get us _anywhere_. Both of you – actually _all _of you – listen here. If we keep arguing with each other, there'll only be anarchy, chaos, and the beginning of chasm… of which could spread throughout the entire Clave as soon as anyone finds out." Here, she turned to Magnus. "How did you know what happened? How did you know that Jace chose to my safety over Alec's?" An inking suspicion was spreading through her, swiftly diffusing to her fingertips and extremities of her body. Despite her words on cooperating with each other, she couldn't help but feel uneasy that Magnus knew this.

Everyone else caught on to what she had silently implied… that Magnus knew more than he was saying. He sighed. "I have sources in Idris, you know. I'm not the High Warlock of Brooklyn for just my fashion skills."

The entire room visibly relaxed, shoulders slumping, the tense silence from before Magnus' statement broken as everyone inhaled a huge gasp of air.

"Okay then. I went to Idris because I knew I'd be shunned if I remained here. When I got there, I ended up in the Morgenstern manor, albeit I've never been there before. There was a passageway that lead to the Wayland manor, and I found Valentine's little manifesto about his experiments." Jace's voice twisted around _experiments_, the disgust evident in his voice. Clary couldn't help but silently second that emotion. "I also found a note, which incidentally, was destroyed by Clary. So, I'm confused," Jace concluded.

"Well, I can shed some light on the note. It's a glam –"

"We _know_ that much." Izzy was evidently extremely ticked off; her full lips were distorted into a sneer. Surprised, Clary swiveled her head towards Isabelle. There was an unmistakable hardness and thinly veiled anger in her eyes. Abruptly, the pieces clicked in her mine. The other girl was resenting the way Magnus had abandoned them when he was needed most.

"I know you know it's a glamour," the warlock replied, unafraid of meeting the challenge. "But do you know how to trace the glamour _to its caster_?" Magnus smirked, knowing he held the trump card, and waving it ostentatiously.

Clary was viciously jerked out of her sleep-induced haze at these words. "That's possible?"

"Only the fey know without doing any work if they had spies their… however, some warlocks can trace the source."

Simon sat upright, immediately intrigued. He hadn't been paying much attention before; his attention was completely focused on the glittering Asian Downworlder, now. The little hamster wheels that turned his undead brain were whirring at a ridiculously feverish speed. "Can you?"

"Certainly. But why should I? What would you pay me?"

Jace and Isabelle were absolutely enraged now. "Excuse me? This is your dead boyfriend we're talking about!"

"Pay you? What, you don't even care about the murder of someone who was your friend?"

Their voices rose in a deafening torrent, each of them clamoring and fighting to be heard, to be listened to, a crescendo of tenor and soprano. Simon's fangs slid out, pricking his lower lip, the veins becoming prominent, the civilized look of humanity leaving his face, replaced with the dreadful, feral look of a predator on its hunt. For the first time, all of them were united in a common cause, fueled by their rage.

Worn out, Clary's eyes rolled back, and she sank into the oblivion of much needed sleep.

* * *

"Clary? CLARY?" Isabelle noticed her friend slump without warning. Just like in August, Izzy never noticed how much she cared about Clary – almost as a sister – until she wasn't there. She'd felt incredibly guilty calling Clary for help when she'd basically called her a bitch just hours ago. _There was no other choice_, she reminded herself. _But there was. There was the Clave… but you didn't want Maryse to know her son had been murdered._ There was a sharp pain in the palms of her hands; her nails had driven in, her slightly calloused hands unable to stand against the sharpness of her manicured fingers.

Everyone looked over, alarmed by Izzy's shout. For a moment, there was wild panic in her companions' eyes… until Clary snored. Immediately, they turned back to Magnus, all three of them glowering, refusing to pay Magnus so he could help find the cause of death of a common friend.

However, the warlock appeared to remain unfazed, sparkly face as smooth and unruffled as when they first saw him at his cat's birthday party. _Who holds a birthday party for their _cat_?_ Isabelle's mind wandered, in denial that any of this was happening. Exasperated, Izzy made up her mind. "Look, if you can help us, do so. If not, you can show yourself out."

Everyone gawped at her, stunned into silence. She _never_ gave up that easily. It was completely out of character for her to do so. _Guess Clary really has been rubbing off._ Not that Clary gave up easily…

That earned her a Cheshire cat's grin. "Certainly, m' dear." And with that, he vanished.

A brief moment of silence followed. Then, they unleashed their fury on her. "Don't say anything," she warned them. "The fey know. Why don't we go to them, instead of bothering with some idiot who's obviously not going to help?"

"Even the Seelie Court doesn't give us anything for free. There's always a price."

"I know." Surprisingly, Jace agreed with her. "There's no point dawdling here, attempting to barter with an unwilling warlock. Did you notice how he didn't comment on anything? I think he knows more than he's willing to admit."

"Well, he is an eight-hundred year old warlock who's been all over the world." _Do all Downworlders put each other before Nephilim and mundanes?_

"If someone murdered Clary, how far would you go to find out the truth? Or if you knew information, and we asked you, would you give it to us?" Jace's voice was soft, with an icy undertone.

"That's different," Simon replied firmly, but Isabelle could see in his eyes that he didn't believe that himself.

"How so?"

"She's my childhood friend. I've known her since I was six. Magnus has only known Alec for two or three months," Simon futilely attempted to defend the only other Downworlder that was in the company of the New York Shadowhunters with any regularity.

"All right. Let's rephrase that, shall we? If you knew information about me being murdered, and Clary asked you if you'd help, would you?" Jace's eyes held Simon's, daring him to say no.

"Yes," he replied with only a brief moment's hesitation. Nevertheless, that miniscule amount of time was enough to get the information that Jace was looking for. Obviously, he didn't _say_ that was the information he was looking for, but Isabelle had, after all, known the blond Shadowhunter since they were twelve. They glanced at each other, now more or less certain of the where the vampire's loyalties lay.

"Wait! Before you jump to any conclusions, you should know this: It depends on who did the killing. What if it was _you_, Izzy?" Simon asked, turning to her, desperation in his eyes beseeching her to understand.

"Are you implying that I would kill my brother?" she challenged, her tone cold enough to match the temperature of Simon's skin. The way she spoke, paired with the icy black of her eyes, was like flinging ice shards at the vampire. She longed for her glimmering electrum whip, yearning to burn off the frustration of the day in physical exhaustion. _How _dare_ he assume she'd kill her only remaining brother?_

A ray of reddish sunlight burst through the drawn, translucent curtains, illuminating her face in a horrifically beautiful way. Izzy started, not realizing that so much time had passed since Clary had come and saved them.

As the realization of what he'd said dawned on Simon, his eyes grew large as golf balls. "No, no, that's not what I meant," he backtracked hastily. Nevertheless, the damage had been done. Albeit Izzy knew it was a hypothetical situation meant to put her and Jace into an impossible predicament with no choice, she was too tired to deal with it and think logically.

"Because I would _never_. I would never murder anybody. Especially not my family," she hissed. _The _Law_! There's a higher law than the Clave, Alec. The law of family._ Thinking of Alec brought a fresh pang to her heart; it was hard to get over going from the middle child to the only child in a few months. She felt someone pull her into his arms; a brotherly hug. Jace. He knew her pain, too. His favorite brother and his _parabatai_… all gone. At least he had Clary. She had no one. Stiff and unyielding, she outwardly betrayed no feelings. That was what being a Shadowhunter was sometimes: acting like you didn't give a care in the world; that you were better and above everything. Lately, she was beginning to understand that it was all false.

The entire room was illuminated now, and Clary shifted in her slumber. The orange glow hit her face, tinting it to almost match her hair. She emitted a soft moan and turned her face away from the sunrise. Exhausted and annoyed, Isabelle rubbed her eyes and shoved her hair back.

"Are we going to ask the Seelie Queen or not?" Jace queried, always cutting through the drama and getting to the heart of the problem.

Frowning, Izzy shot him a glare as she pulled away. "Haven't you heard that patience is a virtue, Jace Herondale Lightwood?"

"Only from those without lives," came his cutting remark.

"Sorry to interrupt this touching familial moment, but we really do need to figure this out. If Magnus the _Oh-So-Magnificent _refuses to help us for his own devious little reasons, and we don't want to owe the Seelie Queen…. What _do_ we do?" Clearly, Simon had been trying to suppress his rudeness out of remorse for his earlier words, but some of the harshness still seeped through, like spilt water from the table onto the floor.

"Not much choice, is there?" Isabelle answered bleakly. Her hollow voice was devoid of emotion, as if she'd already given up, and accepted that her older brother was dead and no one knew who the murderer was.

"There's always a choice. Isn't that what you said to me, Jace, when I first met you guys?" Clary's voice rang out, still slightly muddled with sleep, though not as crabby as before her nap.

"Hello to you, too. Currently, we're debating whether or not we should ask the fey for help. We don't really want to owe them any favors –"

"– But we don't have any alternatives." Clary cut Izzy off, much to the annoyance of the more experienced Shadowhunter. Isabelle quickly quashed those feelings of resentment. They'd _all _been through Hell in the last several days… and for someone who was raised a _mundie_…. Well, she doubted that she'd be doing much better, herself.

"Yes, there's always a choice. However, sometimes… they're all so abysmal and dire that we just don't bother considering them," Jace answered Clary.

"True that. Could we ask any other warlocks? The Clave has so many working with them. Besides, we should already have notified them of a fallen comrade, anyways, right?"

Izzy and Jace exchanged a brief, desperate glance. She couldn't help it; Isabelle started fiddling with a long strand of her hair. It was a nervous habit that she'd never quite been able to get over. That didn't go unnoticed by Clary. "What?" she demanded.

"We _are _supposed to. It's just…" Isabelle trailed off helplessly, begging Jace silently to help.

"Maryse and Robert are in the Clave, too. And they've already lost one son, how do you think they're going to handle hearing about the death of another one? Especially because they're negotiating some treaty in Idris right now (something or other about stabilizing the New Accords?) they're definitely not going to take kindly to hearing about Alec."

Izzy watched as Clary's shoulders fell in defeat, and her perceptive glance became downcast. "Well, the Seelie Queen doesn't like me that much, right now… especially after I refused to tell Luke to help Meliorn."

"Magnus is being uncooperative, and Ragnor is dead," Jace quipped, unhelpfully, albeit true.

"We can't turn to the Clave, either."

"I believe we've already stated that," Clary remarked dryly. Izzy glared at her.

"I'm trying to be helpful – clearly not appreciated," she snapped back. "That leaves us with nothing. There's no way we could possibly track the origins of the glamour on our own."

"Unless…" Jace trailed off.

"_What?_" Isabelle and Clary demanded together. Glancing over at Clary, she noticed that her posture was similar to that of her own: back straight, feet flat on the floor, leaning forward slightly.

"Tessa might be able to help; albeit, I doubt it."

"How could she possibly help? Besides, we haven't seen her around much either. Come to think of it, no one's been in our immediate vicinity for a long time."

"You think it's deliberate." Izzy didn't ask Clary for a confirmation. Instead, she stated it. "However, Jace's right. If Tessa could change into Magnus, we could get the information we needed."

Cynically, Clary replied, "No, you're wrong. Magnus said he could _track_ who cast the glamour. He didn't say he _knew_ who _cast_ the glamour."

Here, Jace spoke, "Our isolation probably is deliberate. Not to mention that we all suspected each other, and were wary of one another. If we're cut off from the rest of the world, with no contacts to call on for help, and we don't trust ourselves, that'd be an impeccable time to attack us if you're the enemy, right? It's considerably easier to kill a bunch of Shadowhunters that are grievous, desperate, and alone, than a group of Nephilim that protect each other and are vengeful for a brother's death."

"Who can we trust, then? The fey never give anything without a price, sometimes more than it's worth. Magnus wants us to pay him."_ Bastard! How could he expect us to _pay_ him for help finding out why _his_ boyfriend's dead? _Furious, Izzy continued to rant silently, all but unaware of the conversation between Jace and Clary. _Like we haven't done favors for him? And we didn't charge him. Stupid, glittery freak._

Suddenly, a long-fingered hand was waving itself in front of her face, the fingers blurring, creating a tanned tint across her vision. It focused, the fingers snapping, the loud _pop_ reverberating in her mind. "Isabelle!" She heard Jace's voice demanding for her attention.

She shook her head of the cobwebs that had formed, sticky and warping at the corners of her mind. Eyes wide, she glanced at Clary, before returning her undivided attention to Jace, giving him her best _sorry I zoned out; you were saying?_ gaze. "Yes?"

"We've conceded that the only logical and legitimate course of action is going to the faeries and asking them – very politely, mind you – to please help us and keep the conversation off records. That okay with you?" Clary piped up from her perch.

Mutely, Isabelle nodded. Shocked at how much time had passed, she offered, "We should clean up the place. Want me to do it?"

Clary smiled her thanks. "I'm coming. Jace, is there any way you could schedule an audience with the queen? She likes you the best."

"I'll do my best." His mouth quirked in an arrogant smirk, though his eyes were still old with sorrow.

Efficiently, she and Clary worked together, removing the stains on the couch; vacuuming the glitter; washing the coffee mugs. When they finished, she peered outside, where the back of Jace's blond head was facing her, his hands gesturing animatedly. _Well, he's obviously exasperated_. He seemed to be arguing with a pixie, her sharp teeth gnashing together, as she spat responses to his pleads. The bickering didn't cease, not even ten minutes later when Clary joined her at the window, wearing new clothes that weren't covered in blood, and a clean set for her as well.

"Thanks."

Just then, Jace turned his back on the faery, his hands flying into the air once more in anger. The pixie shot forward, her talon-fingered hands outstretched, her mouth gaping open, her eyes ferocious. The distance between them closed, _three feet… two…one…._

They collided.

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**_So, that's it. I hope it's getting better. But that's up to you. Review? Please? I would say I'm aiming for thirty-five, but I'm probably just going to disappoint myself. So, yeah. No review goals for this chapter._**

**_P.S. I included Izzy's perspective because I feel she should be represented more._**

**_P.P.S. This is my first fanfic... and I don't have a beta. Should I get one? Do I need one? Let me know what you think._**


	8. Chapter VII

_**Hey, I'm back! I know I haven't updated for ages, but I'm pretty sure I have the highest marks in a lot of my classes, and I've been trying to maintain that. Also, the lack of response is starting to annoy me, so I was feeling kinda down... On a happier note, I attempted a small amoung of fluff this chapter (it totally sucks, though), so here goes nothing. And without further ado, Chapter Seven!**_

_***Disclaimer: Don't own anything.**_

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Chapter VII

Clary stared, her limbs paralyzed, even as her mind screamed at her to help Jace, call out, and do something, _anything._ And yet she couldn't move, couldn't even twitch her fingers. The pixie was clinging onto his back, and there was nothing Jace could do to dislodge her. Clary moved without the knowledge of her mind, and suddenly, she was ripping the faery off of Jace's shoulders, the fey's long, twig-like fingers gouging deep grooves into his shoulders.

The pixie stared at Clary with blazing hate in her eyes. Calmly – even though her blood was boiling – Clary produced a long, iron-bladed dagger from her boot. "Asshat, are we invited to see the Queen or not?"

Defiantly, the pixie ignored her, feigning deafness. "I know you can hear me. And I know you know what happens if this blade touches your skin." Clary felt Jace move towards her, and his warm, heavy hand came to rest on her shoulder. Irritably, she shrugged it off, and returned her attention to the fey.

It was obvious that the faery didn't believe that Clary was serious about the knife. She moved it closer, until just millimeters from the fey's green skin, and the air between the blade and the skin heated up, almost crackling with intensity and heat. "FINE! I'll take you to see the Queen!"

Clary smiled and stood up, brushing off her jeans just to add effect. "Good." With that, she walked back into the house, Jace following mutely behind her. It was only when she sat down on the couch, dizzy, that she realized her hands were dripping blood. Vaguely, she remembered the windows shattering when she burst through them, the glass scratching at her face and neck, puncturing her hands in dozens of places.

The warmth that seeped through her hands made her realize that Jace was kneeling in front of her, drawing _iratzes _on her hands, and that Isabelle was beside him, both of them looking up at her with worried, anxious expressions. The moment of silence stretched on infinitely… until Jace broke the silence.

"Clary, it's against the Accords to threaten Downworlders, especially now with the Alliance rune."

"She attacked first." Surprisingly, Izzy was on her side.

"Yes, and throwing her off is fine. But we can't just draw knives and start threatening to skin Downworlders. That's something Valentine would do." Jace had some difficulty getting around the word 'Valentine.'

Isabelle stared at Jace, her bottomless black eyes drilling into his amber ones. "And if Clary had been attacked by the faery? What would you have done?" she asked, her soft voice sending chills down Clary's spine.

Jace stiffened. Relentlessly, he claimed, "I would have let them go." Nonetheless, his eyes disagreed with what he said, the aggressive protectiveness in them conveying that whomever hurt Clary would have to pay.

Satisfied that her point was clear, Izzy shrank back, smirking. Albeit her eyes showed her envy that Jace and Clary cared so much for each other.

"It doesn't matter. She said that she'd take us to the Seelie Queen, and she can't lie. It's a done deal." The lack of emotion in Clary's voice surprised herself. Her mind was numb as the fact that she had just saved Jace – not vice versa – sunk in.

Isabelle, sensing the tense air that surrounded the three Shadowhunters, got up and left, so that Jace and Clary could argue in relative privacy.

Clary and Jace remained silent, until they heard the bedroom door above their heads slam shut, and music began to blare from the speakers in Clary's room.

"I'm sorry, but did you really expect me to just… do nothing?" Clary questioned incredulously.

"You haven't dealt with faeries before. You don't know how they're like when someone hurts one of their own." The condescending tone of Jace's voice irritated Clary to no end.

"Oh, I haven't dealt with faeries? I wasn't the one who was about to become some miserable, worthless slave to the Seelie Queen unless I kissed my 'brother'? I wasn't the one who that wretched Queen came to when she asked for Meliorn to be on the Council? If that wasn't me, who was it, Jace? Some lookalike?" Eyes burning, Clary stood up, walked to the other side of the room, and turned her back on Jace.

"Clary…" he pleaded. "Look at me, please." Stubbornly, she ignored him, still ranting silently. _Who did he think he was, lecturing me on how to deal with faeries after _I _saved _him_? I don't need a protector; I'm not a stupid, little mundie, anymore._

"Clary." His voice was harsher now, demanding, rather than requesting that she hear him out. It was closer too, directly behind her rather than across the room, even though she never heard any footsteps. _How does he move so quietly? _Roughly, he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around, jerking her rudely from her thoughts.

"What?" she snapped. "You expected me to do _absolutely nothing, _even after you died once? After everything that's happened – the Silent Brothers wanting to lock you up and study you, the whole ordeal where I thought you were Alec's murderer, after all that time thinking you were my _brother_, can you really blame me for not wanting to see you sliced to shreds?"

His gaze softened, and Clary realized just how close they were, his arms bracing the wall on either side of her head, their bodies pressed against each other, their lips mere inches from touching. His hand left the wall, and cupped her chin, tilting her head back. "I'm sorry. I really am. But—"

Clary shoved him away from her. "But. There's always a 'but' with you, isn't there, Jace? It's never just a simple, 'I'm sorry I was such a bastard; thanks for stopping that fey from transforming me into spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.' There's always strings attached when you say something, anything. And guess what? I hate it. I'm sick of—"

The rest of her words were cut off, as Jace placed his lips on hers. Clary tried to draw back, but was trapped between the wall and Jace. His lips were desperately seeking forgiveness from her, and her anger quickly dissipated. The pounding bass of Izzy's iPod faded away, as did their surroundings, until all that was left was his mouth on hers; his hands on the bare skin of her back; the silky texture of his hair winding around her fingers.

Clary tasted tears on Jace's mouth, and thought she was crying… before realizing that her eyes were dry. Which meant _Jace_ was crying. In all the time that Clary had known Jace, he had _never _cried.

There was a sudden silence in the house that was immediately filled with Isabelle's voice. "Well, looks like _someone _kissed and made up."

Clary turned to face Isabelle, biting her swollen lower lip. Jace turned away. _To wipe his tears?_ Clary wondered.

"It's time."

Invisibly, the three Shadowhunters followed the faery down the Manhattan streets to Central Park. The night wind whipped Clary's red hair across her face, reminding her of the sting brought on by Izzy's whip when they trained. The streets were crowded, and as much as Clary expected the mundanes to walk into them, they never did. Somehow, the mundies always found a way to get out of the Shadowhunters' (and Downworlder's) paths, a dropped phone, or stubbing their toe.

When they finally reached Central Park, Clary breathed a huge sigh of clean air, a welcome reprieve from the polluted, smoggy air of Manhattan. Jace and Izzy also seemed happy to be in a more natural landscape, but none of the Shadowhunters' reactions were as profound as the faery's. She visibly shuddered, bordering on a paroxysm, when they left the iron behind.

Overhead, the moon chased them, but halted when they got to Turtle Pond, falling behind as they advanced into the cold, unwelcoming waters. The underwater plants entangled themselves around Clary's legs, causing her to yank her boots from their slimy grasp.

Once again, she was struck by just how graceful everyone else was: Isabelle glided out looking like she did this every day, Jace barely disturbed the water, and the fey hid her snickers behind her twig-like hands, malice glinting in her eyes as she watched her tormentor struggle against the plants.

Finally freed, Clary watched as the faery stepped gracefully into the frozen moonlight and disappeared beneath the surface. Isabelle advanced, casually falling through the entrance as easily as if she was opening the door to her overstuffed closet. The panic of the consequences to come for attacking one of the Queen's minions finally set in, a huge tidal wave of fear washing over her.

Clary felt the warmth of Jace's hand on the small of her back, gently pushing her forward. "Ladies first," he said with a smug smirk. Clary gripped his hand, remembering the heart-dropping feel the last time she had been here. Staring into his eyes, she tried to convey all her worries of what the Queen would do to her after she threatened the faery. His gaze was steady, reassuring, but other than that, unreadable. Obviously, Clary could see the fright in his eyes, but his jaw worked furiously as he forced it back.

Holding his stare, she stepped backwards into the illuminated patch of water. Air whooshed around her, the sound deafening in her ears. _Is this how Alice felt when she fell into the rabbit hole?_ Clary wondered offhandedly. After what felt like an eternity, she landed hard on her butt, tree roots surrounding her, Isabelle towering over her.

"Tomorrow, we're teaching you how to fall properly." Izzy looked down at Clary, sticking out a hand and hauling her up.

"Good plan," Jace's voice sounded from behind her. There was a silence, as the Shadowhunters became aware of an impatient _pitter-patter_ coming from above their heads. In unison, they looked up, and saw the faery guide lounging above them, scowling, tapping her long nails on a nearby tree root. She raised her eyebrows. "You coming, or not?" she demanded irritably.

Meekly, they nodded, following her into the Queen's large, spacious chamber. Along the way they passed the hall with the eternal dancing, but it was different this time. This time, there was no elusive pull on Clary to join them. They were still beautiful, but beneath the façade, they were hideous and decayed. Their intestines fell out; their flesh hanging in long ribbons, and beneath the pulsing, otherworldly music, there was the tortured, inhuman screams.

Clary shuddered. She didn't _want_ to know how many of them were mundanes: unsuspecting, innocent Sightless lured by the charms of the fey. But most of all, Clary didn't want to think of how close _she_ had been to joining those poor people.

Eventually, they edged their way through the throng of gyrating and dancing bodies to the Queen's cavernous room. The music receded as they pushed their way into the room. "My Queen, the Shadowhunters have requested a meeting with you." The faery bowed low, and shot the Nephilim a scathing look that matched the derision in her voice when she said _Shadowhunters._

"Why do you seek me out?" she queried, and her green eyes seemed to be able to pierce the souls of each one of them. Clary squirmed; she wasn't used to being so thoroughly analyzed. As usual, it was Jace who spoke for all of them, Isabelle being more interested in checking out the Seelie Court even though she had her on-again, off-again relationship with Simon.

"We'd like to trace a glamour. We have evidence that suggests that the caster of this glamour led to the murder of my _parabatai_, Alec." Clary stared at him in bewilderment; she hadn't expected him to be so straightforward, so un-eloquent.

The Queen raised her eyebrows. "Surely, with your friend's dalliance with the warlock, Magnus Bane, he would have no problem doing you this favor. Am I not correct?"

Jace clenched his teeth. "We've tried, my lady. He has not been as forthcoming as we should've liked."

The Queen of the Fair Folk smirked. "Well then, why should _I_ help you?"

Like flames, Jace's ochre eyes burned. "It would do you well to remember that the last time I spoke to you – about Valentine – I was correct. We would only come to you if we truly needed your help. It is not our desire to waste your _precious_ time."

They stared each other down, a challenge clear in Jace's eyes, the Queen responding with an impassive, judgmental gaze. "Then, perhaps… you should have thought of that _before_ you threatened to skin a member of my Court." With that, she turned to Clary, gracefully rising from her seat and walking to where Clary stood, petrified with fear.

"You are the one who create the Alliance rune, correct?"

_You already know the answer to that!_ Clary wanted to shout. However, she could not move but for an almost imperceptible nod.

The Queen continued her interrogation. "Then why, pray tell, would you threaten a Downworlder?" Her logic was impeccable, and there was no way to answer.

Surprisingly, Isabelle dragged herself away from her appraisal of the Court to answer. "She was aggravated because the faery that brought us here attacked Jace and was refusing to take us here."

The Queen whirled to look at the fey that had brought them to the Court. "Is this true?"

Unable to lie, the faery answered, "Yes. But she needn't have been so angry and threaten the already unstable peace between our species."

"True that; albeit, you took the initiative and attacked first. I understand that you may have been provoked, but I cannot punish the Nephilim for a crime lesser than one that my own has committed." Unable to help himself, Jace let out a childish smirk, implying _so there_.

"Will you help us, or not?" Isabelle demanded, tiring quickly of the Fair Folk, after apparently finding nobody who met her criteria.

"I will help you… on one condition. You owe me a favor."

All of them opened their mouths to speak, but Izzy beat them to it. "Done."

Jace and Clary turned and looked at Isabelle incredulously, their mouths agape with disbelief. "Isabelle! You never, ever—" Clary began.

"—Make a deal with the Fair Folk without knowing all the details!" Jace finished.

"Well, sorry for trying to get us out of this mess! I didn't know you wanted us to ramble on here until we die!" protested Isabelle.

The Queen and her court regarded them with cool amusement. "While we may not grow old, that doesn't mean we want to hear your argument – about us—in our immediate vicinity," the Queen chastised.

"Apologies, my lady," Clary smoothly said.

"The Fair Folk would like to re-unite Downworld. There has been much feud and disagreement since we have happened upon the Daylighter. Now we have the chance to return our world to peace and prosperity. Our task for you: We would like you to dispose of the Downworlder. If we have proof of his death, then we shall trace the origins of the glamour for you."

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_**That's right: they have to kill Simon. He may or may not die. Alec may or may not be dead. The only for sure thing is that Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern and Valentine Morgenstern are dead. This was a shorter chapter, because I feel like I'm rambling when I write a 3.5k chapter. If I get enough reviews, next time might be longer. So, review? Please?**_


	9. Please read

**Important: Please read**

Honestly, I hate author notes. Nonetheless, there is a good reason for this. Next week, I'll be in Spokane, Washington, doing a 12 km (7.46 mile) run. Therefore, I won't be able to update in the beginning of each month as I normally try to.

I'd like to take some time to address some anonymous reviews from Bella:

"…and more Jace humor." Seriously, if you've read 'City of Fallen Angels', you know that he doesn't spend all his time being sarcastic to the world. I'll have you understand that Jace feels responsible for the death of his _parabatai_, who he happens to be closer to than one with their best friend. So if you were in a car collision, and some drunk driver killed your best friend, are you telling me that you wouldn't feel Survivor's Guilt and you'd be completely unaffected? 'Cause if that's you, Bella, kudos.

Jace _was _snarky in this story; I didn't specify, "…he said sarcastically," but it was definitely implied.

"More action would be nice." So having Jace leave and finding out he killed his brother in the prologue; a fight between Clary and Isabelle in the first chapter; Jace finding parts of his past in the second; Clary Portalling into Idris; cliffhanger in four; a fight in five; _another_ cliffhanger in six; and an order to kill Simon – who happens to be invincible, with the Mark of Cain and all that jazz, you're telling me that this lacks action? I'm curious: What do you call the stories where people run around, crying, and being emo?

To everyone who reviewed: Thank you. Your support was probably one of the only things that kept me from scrapping this story. It was originally going to be longer, but there's been a huge influx of people writing fics about what happens after 'City of Fallen Angels' and I wrote this _before_ it was ever published. So when everybody was angry at Jace being the antagonist, look at that! I was right. I like to always be one step ahead of everybody else, so I'll probably finish this soon.

**Here's an excerpt of the next chapter:**

They stared at her, astounded. "Are you out of your mind? How the hell are we supposed to kill Simon? No dice," Clary retorted furiously. "You know what happened to Lilith. We have _no_ chance, and I'd never murder my best friend."

The Queen regarded her coolly, amusement glittering in the depths of her leaf-green eyes as she watched them trapped by her deal, their butterfly wings flapping feebly while she mercilessly drove a stick into their bodies. "Is that your final answer, then? Once you decline my offer, it will never come again."

Isabelle opened her mouth, defiance against the Seelie Queen evident in the set of her jaw. But Jace beat her to it. "No. We need some time to confer before making a decision."

The two female Shadowhunters stared at him in rage and disbelief. "You're joking," Clary intoned bleakly. "You'd kill a living person to trace a glamour that would only lead us on a wild goose chase? You'd do this for a dead person?"

Softly, Isabelle spoke with absolute conviction, "Jace… I know Simon doesn't mean nearly as much to you as Alec did, but I doubt Alec would want you to kill some innocent person for him."

With the light extinguished in his eyes, Isabelle thought Jace had come to his senses, and would draw the line at homicide, but she was disappointed. "He's not a person."

The words seemed to bury themselves into Isabelle's chest, before groping for her heart and tearing it out, dropping it on the floor and grinding it beneath a heel of a boot. Distantly, she remembered the words she had said to Simon once: _My mom didn't tell me who she was. She just told me you couldn't really trust men._

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_**Let me know your thoughts? I know there's nothing to review, but feedback, any feedback at all would be so important to me.**_


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